


Beggars Would Ride

by curi_o



Series: Pain for Jayne [4]
Category: Firefly
Genre: Content: Angst, Content: Fluff, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-21
Updated: 2006-08-21
Packaged: 2017-11-08 22:59:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/448497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curi_o/pseuds/curi_o
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alliance didn't stop coming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beggars Would Ride

**Author's Note:**

> Pain for Jayne prompt: stale

* * *

The Alliance didn’t stop coming, not even after Miranda. They spent two years narrowly avoiding death. Mal lost a couple of toes. Inara earned a scar across her back. It was the knife to Kaylee’s belly that did it, though.

The soldier who killed River Tam’s unborn nephew died slowly. She and Jayne made sure of that. After the captive was dead, the tiny assassin disappeared into her bunk. 

With so many grieving bodies on board, anyone who noticed River’s absence might have thought it natural for her to insulate herself from their emotions. When the bereaved Kaylee and Simon did notice, a few days after the incident, their grief slipped into anger at the small woman, the cause of all their troubles. 

Jayne held Kaylee’s hand through the surgery that saved her life. River was Simon’s _mei-mei_ ; Kaylee was his. Everything connected. She told him of her anger, at River and Simon and Mal for putting her in danger, putting her baby in danger. Jayne’s chest ached for them all.

He entered River’s quarters without knocking. She would know it was he, wouldn’t kill him on impulse. They’d come to trust each other, developed a quiet respect between them.

The room was a disaster zone. Broken plastic containers lay where they had fallen after shattering against the walls, the contents scattered amidst the casualties of River’s rage. She was curled on her bed, in the farthest corner.

Jayne thought she was asleep. He carefully picked his way through the rubble and smoothed her disheveled hair. She shook under his hand, and his concern increased. He settled himself next to her on the mattress and pulled her tiny form into his lap.

She began to sob, then, against his chest. There were words in her tears, but he didn’t understand them. He held her steady against him.

When her tears subsided, he felt her body tense. When she tried to push him away, he held her more tightly. She struggled in his arms, then began to hit him in earnest.

This was what she needed, he knew. She needed to hit someone. She needed another body to absorb her pain; the broken objects in her quarters only released the sorrow into the air she breathed.

He let her use him. So saturated was he in her frustration that he barely felt the first broken rib; the second, however, got his attention. His vision grew blurry, though whether from his tears or his blood he was unsure. And when she exhausted herself and lay her head on his lap, he waited through her weeping.

* * *

He must have lost consciousness, he realized upon waking, because his chest and face had been bandaged. He was still in River’s quarters, though the space bore a stark contrast to the last time he had seen it. There was no evidence of her internal war; very little evidence, in fact, that she occupied the room at all.

She sat at the foot of the bed, sketching in her book. She looked up, studying his face. It seemed to take her a moment to register his wakefulness; when her eyes rested on his, she jumped. 

Jayne let out a hoarse cough and tried to grin. She had been _very_ angry, he realized, wincing. Next time, he’d have to rethink the decision to play punching bag.

The relief in her eyes disappeared as her gaze flicked through emotions in an instant: guilt, pain, fear, resolve.

“No next time.” Her voice was firm.

“Ah, hell, Riv; it ain’t like you’re never gonna get angry again. You gotta deal with it, less’n you wanna end up like your brother with a stick up yer _pi gu_.” His eyes told her he was teasing. He was rewarded with a meager smile that faded after an instant.

“I’ve packed,” she said suddenly, studying her hands intently. “When we dock, when you can move, I’m getting off.”

Jayne started to sit up at her announcement, which proved a bad move. His eyes watered as he sank back down and he couldn’t hold back the groan. River was at his side in a flash, one hand squeezing his, the other stroking his forehead.

When he could think again, he glared at her. “What in the _ruttin’ hell_ makes you think you can do that? What makes you think the crew’ll let you go?”

“I can hurt them. They fear me,” she said, her eyes meeting his.

“And what makes you think _I’ll_ let you go?” he demanded. 

Though anger and determination sped his heart and lungs, he was nauseous with the knowledge that she was going to leave him. She had already decided. The argument was a formality.

“Ariel,” she said. “The knife before Miranda. Every argument with Mal. The fear in your eyes.”

He sucked in a breath, the pain this time nothing to do with his physical injuries.

“That was a low blow, little girl,” he growled, “and not hardly a good enough answer. Them was two years ago an’ more. Any fear you see’s got nothin’ to do with you stayin’, _dong ma_?”

Her eyes filled with tears and his big paw of a hand rose to cradle her cheek. “It ain’t fair.” His voice was hoarse. “Ain’t fair you gettin’ off an’ leavin’ us. Leavin’ _me_. Not after I done told you I love your crazy self.”

She looked at him quizzically, almost teasing. “You haven’t said anything of the sort, Jayne Cobb. You must be delusional.” She put a hand to his forehead as if feeling for a fever. “Do you feel ill? Do you see pink elephants on parade?” Her eyes danced now, merry for the moment.

“You’re the one what sees things, little crazy girl. You tell me what I see,” he grunted, unwilling to let this go. It seemed important that she know—that he be sure she understood.

She searched his eyes for confirmation of the invitation into his thoughts. He nodded, saying, “Just what I see right now. Don’t go pickin’ around and openin’ boxes what don’t concern you.”

She gave him a small, heartfelt smile in acknowledgement and gripped his hand tighter. Her eyes seemed to focus beyond him, beyond Serenity or anywhere in the ‘verse. 

He concentrated on her, so she could see herself as he did: dangerous and sparkling new and soft and smooth and hard and clean and warm and whole and cracked and beautiful and all manner of shiny.

She gasped and her vision focused on him. Her eyes shone as they filled again with tears. “You love me,” she whispered. 

Jayne snorted at the look of awe on her face. “Ain’t that hard to believe, little girl. Any man don’t is crazier’n y—“

He never got to finish his sentence. Her lips on his drove any words he might’ve had straight out the airlock. She was soft, hesitant, gentle. It hurt like hell, but he wouldn’t’ve stopped her for anything.

He felt her grin against his lips. She sat up, looking extremely self-satisfied. “Kissed her on the lips. Never kisses ‘em on the lips. Kissed _her_ on the lips.”

“Now wait just a minute, little girl,” he protested. “Was you kissed me. I ain’t in any condition to be kissin’ on nobody.”

“Weren’t nobody, Jayne Cobb. Was River Tam. You _love_ her.” As she teased, her face shone with a joy he fully expected to blind him.

“Yeah, well, ‘s too bad y’had to beat me to a pulp a’fore I toldja. Gonna haveta wait to do any serious kissin’.” He raised an eyebrow. “Or other stuff.”

He watched her smile melt off her face like them creepy clock paintings from that Doll feller.

“Oh, don’t start on that leavin’ _go se_ again. You can’t leave just when you get yerself in love,” he insisted, though the nauseous feeling was back.

She dropped her eyes and released his hand. Her voice was small. “Can. Must. Will.”

“Well’n, I’m comin’ too,” Jayne declared.

River whispered, “No, you aren’t. You must stay for the family. Be a faithful watchdog, a good Nana for Wendy and her brothers.” She ignored his confusion. “I’m going back to the Lost Boys.”

Jayne growled at the word “boys.” “Y’ain’t goin’ nowhere without me’n you _gorram_ well better get used to it. You’re _my_ River. I ain’t sharin’.”

River sighed and curled into his good side. “It is futile to argue with you. Rest for full recovery, Jayne-bear-Nana-dog.”

Smiling at the image of himself as a bear, he followed her advice and slipped into sleep.

* * *

A week later, River had declared Jayne fit to stalk about Serenity as usual. He tried to be pleased, though, truth be told, the rest of the boat still felt like a funeral attended by the dead. He was reluctant to end his time with River, recovering in her bed. Even as he suspected she was nursing him out of guilt ( _after all, she hadn’t said_ she _loved_ him), he basked in her attention.

He’d spent time every day with his _mei-mei_ , as much as he could handle before her sorrow suffocated him. He didn’t tell her about River (who stubbornly refused to unpack her cases, despite his requests), and Kaylee didn’t ask.

The night before the firefly set down on Persephone, River and Jayne made love for the first time. Wrapped around her, in her bed, he’d wondered if they were moving too fast. River, however, had been insistent; besides, he reasoned, he couldn’t exactly turn her down when she had her hands down his trousers. 

Despite his reservations, their coupling had been sweet and slow. He growled his love for her into her ear repeatedly, and he’d felt her thrill beneath him.

When Jayne woke in River’s bed, he was alone. Serenity was quiet around him—the sound of a docked boat. Filled with a sudden dread, he threw himself from the bed; his feet tangled in the sheets, and he fell on his face. He grunted and turned his head toward the door, where River had left her suitcases since packing them. 

They were gone.

He lay there for a long time, slow tears leaking onto the floor. At length, he stood and inspected the room. He found the note taped to the ceiling above the bed. When he opened it, a second piece of paper fell out.

He read her words first: 

_Jayne Cobb, I love you.  
_ Do not _look for me. I will return to you. I promise. Enclosed you will find my reciprocation of the gift with which you presented me.  
Until we meet again, River (Tam) Cobb_

He set her note aside, careful not to smudge the writing with his tears. Even if he didn’t know what all them words had meant, he would’ve got the gist by the way she’d signed her name. He unfolded the second paper slowly.

He stared at the man on the page. The figure looked familiar, like a version of _him_. He smiled involuntarily at the Jayne Cobb his River had captured. This was her love letter, her way of saying that she saw him as he did her. She _loved_ him as he loved her.

He still didn’t understand why she’d gone and left him. As he carefully refolded the papers, his eye caught something he’d missed: 

_P.S. No trim, Jayne Cobb. If I can make do with my hands, you can make do with yours._

He snorted a choked laugh and continued reading: 

_P.P.S. If you see him, tell the old you he finally won._

Victory had never tasted so stale as at that moment.


End file.
